


In Solemn Stillness Lay

by alyjude_sideburns



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 16:59:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyjude_sideburns/pseuds/alyjude_sideburns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was done for Kira's Slash Advent Calendar and is a companion piece to Silent Night but is not a sequel, prequel, or anything else, rather, it's Blair's version of a miracle when he needs one, thus stands alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Solemn Stillness Lay

**Author's Note:**

> Like a few other older stories, I've gone back and fixed grammar and punctuation errors and am posting for someone special, who mentioned that this was her fave Christmas story. Merry Christmas - belated. :)
> 
> Originally posted in 2003 and revised in 2009

 

 

 

He reread the report, nodded in satisfaction, and hit 'print'. While waiting for the finished product, he took his coat from the rack, slipped it on, glanced at the clock, and gave a low whistle. He was really cutting it short - but there was still a chance he might make it, but it would be close since he still had to change.

Simon's report lay in the printer tray and he plucked it up, stapled it, walked to Simon's door and dropped it in his box. As he headed for the double doors, Connor looked up, smiled gently, and said, "See you there?"

"Yep. Don't forget the bag from the guys on the late shift."

"I won't, and Joel's bringing the one from Arson too. Should be a great haul this year."

He nodded as he took his gloves out of his pocket. "Yeah, but am I the only who thinks it should be Joel playing Santa?"

She laughed lightly and said, "In a word - yes. And don't forget whose idea this was in the first place, okay?"

He stopped in the process of putting on the second glove, cocked his head and asked in a worried voice, "Bad idea, doing this on Christmas Eve?"

Smiling gently, she shook her head. "Not at all. Thanks to you, the holiday has taken on new meaning for most of the PD." She made a shooing motion with her hand and added, "Now go on with you. You have a costume to pick up."

He smiled and, with a wave, headed out, unaware of the sad and worried dark blue eyes following him.

***

He rode down to the parking garage, his mind a couple of hours ahead. In spite of his earlier concern that he wasn't the right person to play Santa at St. Joseph's Childrens Hospital, he was now actually looking forward to. He got out of the elevator and walked the short distance to the truck, unlocked it, climbed in, and started the engine. He cranked up the heat and, after checking the rearview mirror, slowly backed out of the space and headed toward the exit.

As promised by the weather man, it was snowing, a light soft snow, so he turned on the windshield wipers, made his right, and drove toward the costume rental store.

***

"...here's the beard. But you'll notice that we don't use the kind you anchor over your ears, no sir, this is the real thing and comes with a tube of spirit gum...much better than anything we've had before."

He fingered the white beard and murmured, "It feels…almost...luxurious."

"Oh, it's real, sir. Real hair." Seeing the stricken face of his customer, he hastened to add, "The wig dealer pays handsomely for men to actually grow their hair with the express purpose of cutting it."

"Ah, well, that certainly makes me feel better - I guess."

The shop owner settled the beard back into the box, folded the tissue paper over the costume, and reattached the lid. "Captain Banks dropped off the check earlier so this is all yours. Just remember, we close at eight tonight, it being Christmas Eve and all, and we won't open again until the twenty-sixth so you can return it at that time."

He gathered up the large box, put the shoe box on top, and said, "Thank you. I'll make sure and get this back to you on Friday."

"Very good, sir. Happy Holidays."

"Same to you."

He made his way out and onto the sidewalk, got the door to the truck open and managed to get both boxes inside. Now off to the hospital and a lot of children eager to see Santa.

***

"He is _too_ coming, I heard the nurse say so," Jeffery said, his lower lip sticking out.

"He is _not_ coming. He can't come, Jeffy, he has _tons_ of presents to deliver tonight. Santy doesn't have time for us, silly."

"Does too. My auntie says he 'specially has time for us 'cuz we can't be at home for Christmas. And you don't know anything anyway."

Susie Holcomb's lower lip began to tremble as she said quietly, "I know _lots_ of things, and yes I do, Jeffy. Way more than you." With that, she slid down in her bed, pulled the covers over her head, and said, "So there."

Sensing that he'd gone too far, Jeffrey looked at the lump that was his best friend in the hospital, and said, "I'm sorry, Susie. But honestly, you can ask a nurse, Santy _is_ coming and I bet he brings you exactly what you want."

"I suspect he's right, Susie." Both children looked up at the odd voice coming from the doorway.

A tall redheaded lady walked in, grinning. "Hi, kids, I'm Inspector Megan Connor and this," she pulled at someone and, a second later, a man stumbled into their room, "this is Detective Rafe. We're here to take you down to the play room for the party and your chance to meet Santa."

Both children sat up eagerly as two nurses entered pushing wheelchairs. Jeffrey looked over at the third bed and asked, "What 'bout Abbie?"

The boy in the other bed was curled up and appeared to be sleeping. He made no move indicating he'd heard anything. The nurse put her finger to her lips and said, "We'll take Abbie just before the party starts, but for now, we'll let him sleep. This was one of his bad days _and_ he found out his parents can't make it tonight."

Jeffrey nodded in understanding even as his nurse lifted him up and placed him in one of the wheelchairs. "Make sure an' leave room next to me 'an Susie so's Abbie can sit with us, okay?"

Megan took the chair from the nurse, leaned over and, while tucking the blanket around the boy, she answered, "Don't worry, we will. I'll come back and get him myself, all right?"

Jeffrey and Susie, who was now in her chair, both nodded enthusiastically. Susie looked wide-eyed at Rafe and asked, "Do you have a real badge and everything?"

Grinning at her, he pulled his suit jacket aside to show the gold shield hooked to his belt.

"Wow," the two children said simultaneously.

Laughing softly, Megan and Rafe pushed them out into the hall and toward the large playroom where the party for all the children in the cancer unit would be held.

***

The playroom had been transformed, thanks to the staff of the hospital and the Cascade PD, into a winter wonderland surrounding Santa's Village. Tables were decorated with green or red tablecloths and adorned with candle-lit holly centerpieces. Even the food on the tables had been done in a holiday motif. There were snowflake cookies, pound cake slices shaped like tree ornaments, cupcakes in peppermint and chocolate and several cheery holiday pies. Even the punch had been made to reflect the special day; strawberry with lime ice cream balls floating on top. All of the food had been made to look as attractive as possible in order to entice the children, many of whom were undergoing chemotherapy, to eat. Huge white snowflakes and brightly colored round balls hung from the ceiling causing more than one small child to be captivated by the beauty.

At the other end of the room, a special platform with ramps on each end had been erected and, in the middle of it, a large, ornate red chair. Every child in the room knew who would be sitting there and they couldn't wait for their moment with Santa Claus. Those that were ambulatory would be allowed to sit on his lap and the ramps made it possible for the wheelchair-bound children to be pushed right up next to "Santy".

Holiday music played in the background as detectives and hospital staff served the children, parents taking a relaxing back seat to the festivities. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation as the carolers sang, the children ate and played games, and the time approached for the special guest star, the man with the toys.

***

"Will you hurry up. I've only got a few minutes left and I'm not even half ready."

"Hold your horses, Santa baby. The fringe is curling up under the  
jacket...let me just--"

"Brown, if you don't hurry--"

"There, got it! Okay, turn around...that's it, now the belt...."

He held his arms out and away from his side so that Henri could bring the wide, shiny black patent leather belt around to the front and then thread the bright gold belt buckle through it to finally snap shut.

Henri stepped back to look at his handiwork…and then gave him the thumbs up sign. "Man, you're looking good!"

He turned to the mirror, pulled on the wig and, with Henri's help, got it adjusted and then added the hat. The beard had been put on earlier and he had to admit, from the waist up, stuffed body and all, he looked just like...well, Santa Claus.

"Come on, let's get those boots on and get you out to the kids."

Smiling around the beard, he nodded.

Henri, seeing it in the mirror, nodded. It was good to see a real smile on his friend's face again.

***

Simon caught Henri's high sign and immediately strode over to the platform. He jumped up and the children, faces full of icing, whipped cream and red or green moustaches, all quieted, knowing something good was about to happen. Susie poked Abbie, who'd finally been wheeled in, and whispered, "Here comes Santy."

Abbie nodded and looked around the room before whispering back, "Where will he come from? There's no chimney. You tol' me he comes down the chimney."

"He does," Susie whispered back. "But not when he comes to parties for us, then he just comes in the door, I think." Susie gave Abbie a quizzical look. "Doesn't he come down your chimney?"

Abbie shook his head. "No, I'm Jewish and we celebrate Chanukah."

Susie blinked and frowned as she tried to puzzle that out. Finally she said, "Well...Santy is everything, so you should be all right. He'll have a present for you, I'm sure," she said with the assurance of youth.

Abbie wasn't so certain, but he was willing to give Santa a chance.

Simon's voice got their attention again.

"Okay, everyone, do you know what time it is?"

A chorus of young voices immediately yelled out, "It's time for Santa Claus!"

"You're right and here he comes!" Simon said with a loud bellow.

Every head in the room swiveled around to the back doors, which were thrown open by two aides dressed as elves.

And there - in the doorway - stood Santa.

Abbie made a perfect 'o' with his mouth and, eyes wide, he took in the beautiful red suit trimmed in white fur, the full beard and, finally, the black shiny belt and boots. Over his shoulder, he was carrying a _huge_ green bag that looked stuffed to overflowing. Watching the man walk down the aisle, his voice booming out as he talked with children and touched their faces with his gloved hand, Abbie found himself almost bouncing in anticipation. Surely such a wonderful man would have a present for him.

Santa finally reached his seat, flanked on each side by his 'elves'. Nurses began to move their charges forward, with Abbie, Jeffrey and Susie being wheeled together. Abbie watched as each child before him received a hug, a kiss, and secretly shared words with Santa before the jolly man would reach into his bag and bring out a gaily wrapped gift to bestow on the happy child. Abbie was quick to note that boys got gifts wrapped in red and the girls got green wrapping. And while he still wasn't _sure_ Santa would have a gift for him, it didn't matter because really, all he wanted to do now was sit near him, hear his voice and talk to him. He'd been very sick all day and his mommy and daddy couldn't come til tomorrow because of work, but he thought he might feel better if Santa talked to him. Santa seemed like such a happy man.

***

'Santa' was very grateful for the two aides behind him because they knew each child and were able to give him their names as well as share a few tidbits about each child. Just as another chair was being wheeled up, the 'elf' on his left leaned over and whispered, "This is Abbie Irving. He has leukemia and had a rough day earlier. To top it off, his parents couldn't be here because they both had to work - they're wonderful people and he's a doll."

As the thin, pale boy was wheeled close, he said, "Abbie, I'm so very glad to see you!" He glanced up at the nurse and asked, "Can he sit on my lap?"

When the nurse nodded, he leaned forward and, very carefully, lifted the small boy out of the chair and settled him comfortably on his lap. Making sure to keep his voice deep and low, he said, "I hope you're enjoying the party, Abbie, and I'm so sorry your mother and father had to miss this, but I know they had to work and will see you tomorrow."

Abbie, fascinated by the beard, Santa's knowledge, and the kind blue eyes staring down at him, mumbled, "Mommy promised she'd be here for breakfast, but I'm missing the lighting of our menorah." He took a deep breath and added, "All eight nights."

"Oh, dear, that means you're missing your gelt too, and probably no opportunity to play with your dreidel, right?"

Abbie nodded, his expression one of joyous wonder that Santa Claus understood and even knew about Chanukah. His surprise grew as Santa pulled a pale blue bag out of his pocket and then, to Abbie's amazement, pulled an even smaller one from the big one. Holding it up to his ear, Santa shook it, smiled, and handed it to Abbie, who took it eagerly. He pulled the strings apart and upended the sack onto his palm.

"Gelt!" he exclaimed happily. He fingered through the coins, then grinned when he realized some of them were chocolate foil coins. "Oh, goody, chocolate!"

"You think you could eat a few pieces, Abbie?"

He nodded excitedly, feeling really good for the first time that day. "I'll share with my friends, Jeffy and Susie, okay?"

"What a nice thing to do. And you can tell them all about Chanukah at the same time. And," he reached back into his pocket and pulled out a small replica of a menorah, "you can put this on your tray and light a candle in your heart, all right?"

Looking with wonder at the small menorah now in his hand, he said, "Oh, thank you, Santy! Thank you!"

He kissed the boy's cool temple, brushed back some of his dark curling hair, and said softly, "Happy Chanukah, Abbie."

"Oh, Happy, happy Chanukah, Santy!"

***

Costume off and back in his street clothes, he watched as the nurses wheeled several of the children back to their rooms. He stayed out of the way as his fellow detectives followed along and helped put the children to bed, setting their new toys up so that they'd be able to see them first thing in the morning. He grinned as he watched little Abbie sharing his gelt with his bedmates, all the while explaining about his menorah. He had to thank God that, at the last minute, he'd tucked that old Chanukah bag into his pocket.

He watched a few more minutes before heading toward the elevator. He felt pretty good, for a change, but in about twenty minutes, he'd be feeling a whole lot better.

***

He parked the truck, shut off the engine and looked up at the building on his right. He smiled at the only window on the third floor with its light on. He got out, locked the truck and stood on the sidewalk for a few moments. There couldn't be a more beautiful night for Christmas Eve than this one. The snow was still lightly falling and, as he looked up, it seemed almost like a miracle. White flakes drifted down from the dark sky, touched his nose, and he grinned like a boy.

The silence on this end of the street was relaxing and…somehow right for the evening. He turned back toward the building and almost ran up to the front door. He threw it open, crossed the lobby to the elevator and, a minute later, was getting out on the third floor. He walked down the hall to the second door on the left. A young woman was just coming out and, seeing him, she smiled. "How did it go at the hospital?"

"Great. I can't wait to tell him all about it."

"Well, he's all yours, now. And Merry Christmas, by the way."

He took a small box out of his coat pocket and handed it to her. "Merry Christmas, Marilyn."

"Oh, Detective, you didn't need to do this."

"Yes, I did. You've been a real friend."

She shook her head and, as she tucked the wrapped gift into her pocket, said, "I'll wait 'til tomorrow morning to open. I'm weird that way." She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek before getting into the elevator with a wave. As the doors closed, he turned and entered the room.

Taking off his coat, he said, "Hey, man, you're going to love hearing about St. Joseph's." He hung it up, pushed the comfortable chair closer to the bed, picked up the lax hand and, rubbing it gently, said, " I'll tell you all about it, then give you your massage and finally, we'll read a few more chapters from the James Patterson novel."

Blair looked down at his partner, eyes bright. He leaned over, kissed Jim's forehead and said, "There was this little boy named Abbie, and Jim, you would have loved him. He has leukemia, but God, he was incredible."

Blair began to talk and, while he was certain there were people who thought it foolish to talk to a man in a coma, Blair wasn't one of them. He knew Jim could hear him. He just _knew_ it.

To him, this coma was simply Jim's way of dealing with the kind of sensory overload he'd been incapable of accepting. There'd been the voices of all the reporters - along with the constant flashing of cameras, then the sound of the shot, the return fire, and…finally, the two bullets slamming into Jim's chest. There's been so much blood, Blair could still see it spreading over the pavement as paramedics tried frantically to keep him alive.  
Eventually, he was raced to the hospital, sirens blaring, and they'd almost lost him not once, but twice on the way. All of which had been too much for the strongest sentinel to handle. So, the coma was Jim's way of bringing mind, body and senses back online, Blair was certain of it.

As he continued to talk, he held Jim's hand.

"Your dad and Steven will be here tomorrow and Simon's dropping by in the afternoon, as will Joel. Megan sends her love and she'll be here on Saturday, like always. Daryl will be here for New Year's, so Simon is literally floating on air. Oh, and it's snowing out. We haven't had snow for Christmas in I don't know how long. Maybe it's a good omen. Oh, and mom will be here this weekend, but don't worry, I won't let her put so much as one leaf of sage in here." He laughed lightly before going on.

Outside, the snow continued to fall.

***

Marilyn stopped at the front desk to sign off and, after dropping the pen back down, said, "Night, Gertie. See you Saturday."

"Right. Hey, how are things upstairs?"

Marilyn shrugged. "The same, no change."

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised, you know? After all, that's why Detective Ellison is here, but still, for some reason, today, I really had hope."

Marilyn shrugged. "Blair's here every single day and, on his days off, practically lives here. I figured that would be enough to bring Detective Ellison back, but it's been four months now so the doctors don't hold out much hope."

Gertie made a little tsking sound. "Doctors always say that. You haven't dealt with comatose patients for as long as I have. I've seen amazing things in all my years here and not one of the patients that proved the doctors wrong had the kind of love and attention that Detective Ellison has from that young man. Not one of them. Why, I've even seen a couple of folks come out of their coma as if they'd just woken up from a night's sleep and you know how impossible that is."

"Hey, I'm not saying I've given up hope, honest. In fact, tonight is just the night for that extra prayer."

"I'm with you on that, Marilyn. Merry Christmas, and see you this weekend."

Marilyn waved a hand as she left and Gertie glanced upward. Voice low, she murmured, "Tonight _would_ be a nice night for a miracle, Lord."

She went back to work.

***

Simon walked into his home, turned on the living room light and slipped out his jacket. He pulled off the muffler and dropped it on top of the coat, then walked into the kitchen. He got a bottle of Jack Daniels out of the cupboard and poured himself a stiff one. As he sat down in his favorite chair, he had to admit that Sandburg had done a brilliant job tonight. He'd bet those kids were still walking on clouds.

And where was Sandburg now? Like he didn't know. Of course he was with Jim at the Williamsburg Center. Simon closed his eyes, but immediately saw Jim's body on the sidewalk in front of City Hall, blood seeping into the concrete from two bullet wounds in his chest. But hey, the honorable John Steiner, Mayor of Cascade was alive and kicking, thanks to Jim's brave and valiant effort to stop an assassin's bullet - or in this case - two.

God, there'd been so much blood. Even today, four months later, Simon had the urge to wash his hands. He'd been covered in Jim's blood by the time the paramedics had arrived. And Sandburg? Simon shivered as he remembered the way Blair looked, how his eyes had gone dark and how his bloodied hands shook when Jim was pulled away. It had been at that precise moment that Simon had known that Blair was in love with Jim. But he never brought it up, not once since that day.

He didn't ask when the doctors told them all that Jim was in a coma. He didn't ask when they were all told that while there was always hope, it was time to move him to a facility that could take constant care of him - for as long as the coma lasted. He didn't ask when Blair told him that he and Jim's father had chosen the Williamsburg, and he didn't ask as Blair settled into a routine that would break a lesser man. A routine that had him start his day early with Jim and finish the day the same way. Simon knew that Blair stayed with Jim until after midnight every single night. Knew that he read to him, watched television with him, massaged him, changed him, did everything he could think of to do. And at six each morning, he was back with Jim for breakfast before coming into the station for a full shift as a detective. A detective that more than pulled his weight.

Simon could almost understand what Blair was doing. He simply didn't want to spend any more time at the loft than he had to. So, work, and Jim. But it had been months now, and Simon didn't know how much longer Blair Sandburg could keep it up.

"I'd have been dead by now," he said to the empty room.

He looked out the living room window at the softly falling snow and suddenly had the desire - no - the _need_ \- to be with Sandburg and Jim. Putting his glass down, he hurried back into his coat, grabbed his keys, turned out the light and left.

***

Joel looked out his bedroom window and thought of Jim and Blair. God, how he missed them. Which was an odd thing to say, considering that he saw Blair every day because they were now partners. But the Blair he worked with bore little to no resemblance to the Blair of over five months ago. This was a Blair without Jim.

He peered out and up, and thought he could just see a few flickering stars between the snow clouds. Joel closed his eyes and said softly, "God, please give them both back to us. I know Blair is surviving, as Jim would want him to, but I have to ask, is he really?" He clasped his hands together and, with eyes on the sky, added, "They're in your hands, as always, and your wisdom is trusted, but I can't bring myself to believe that you would give us the wonderful gift of a sentinel, only to take him from us. I put my trust in you, and pray for tonight, a night of miracles. Amen."

He bowed his head for a few silent moments, then was struck with the need to be with Blair, tonight, of all nights. No, to be with Blair and ... Jim.

Joel headed out.

***

Blair sat quietly, Jim's hand still in his. He wasn't ready to start reading yet, no, he'd rather just look at Jim. Between the massages and the physical therapy, Jim looked much the same as he always looked. Sure, his skin was pale, but really, Blair thought, that was the only significant change. Blair trimmed Jim's hair himself and he shaved him every morning, bathed him most mornings, and took care of the small things, like nails and such. The fact that Jim never moved, or spoke, or opened his eyes, didn't lessen Blair's need to be with him. He could hold Jim's hand, stroke a finger down the much loved jaw, confide in him, share his day with him, and sometimes, sometimes, he was strong enough to talk about the future. Their future.

Admittedly, it took all his strength to speak of a time ahead. He and Jim had only acknowledged their feelings three hours before the event that changed their present. They hadn't even shared a kiss before hustling over to City Hall and Jim's security detail. Who could have predicted that a city worker, recently fired for being drunk on duty, would try to get back at everyone by taking potshots at their mayor?

Blair looked around the room, a room he'd chosen for Jim because of the window overlooking the city, and smiled a bit. Between Major Crime and the nurses here, the room was beautifully decorated for the holiday. His menorah sat on the table in front of the window and, while he rarely arrived for sunset, he'd lit each candle, each evening, just as he'd done tonight. As he continued to look around, it suddenly seemed as if the room was drawing closer, the walls sliding inward. He didn't feel trapped - but suddenly - he was overcome with helplessness - and hopelessness.

"Oh, God," he whispered. He bowed his head and closed his eyes tight. Squeezing Jim's hand hard, he murmured, "I need you so much, man. I don't think...I'm trying to be... trying to make it…to be…but...I don't think I can go on much longer, you know? I never realized how I depended on your voice; just the sound of your voice, whether complaining, teasing, coaching or just...just being you, you know? And your hands. You can't begin to know how I've missed them on me. A pat, a bump, a thump with your fingers, or a palm to my forehead, or your hand on my back or neck...."

He coughed and felt his throat closing up with emotion. He had to move, to get up, to _do_ something. He got to his feet, placed Jim's hand carefully down on the comforter and then walked over to the window. He brushed a hand over his face and felt the moisture of his tears. Man, he'd promised Jim this wouldn't happen, but damn it, maybe this was a quarterly thing. Like, every three months, his emotions would get the better of him....

_No._

No.

There couldn't be another three months or four or five or even ... one. Jim had to come back to him _now_.

"Please, Jim. Please. Don't leave me like this. I'm not as strong as you, don't you see that? None of us are. We need our sentinel, man, and I need... I need my friend, and my partner, and my... now don't laugh, but I need my soulmate, my other half. I need you…."

***

Simon pulled up in front of the Williamsburg and parked next to the truck. He was just getting out of the car when Joel pulled in on the other side. Smiling, he waited until his friend joined him on the sidewalk, then asked, "You couldn't stay away either, I see?"

Joel shook his head. "Not tonight. I just needed to be here, I guess."

"Same with me." He glanced up, then back to Joel as he said, "Shall we?"

"Let's go."

The lobby was warm and inviting with a small decorated tree in the corner. Two wreaths with red bows hung on either side of a large oak wall clock behind the receptionist's desk and, on the counter, sat two poinsettias. Gertie looked up as the two men entered and smiled.

"Captain Banks and Detective Taggart, Merry Christmas. I'm surprised to see you tonight."

They walked up to her and, while Joel signed them both in, Simon said, "We both decided that tonight, of all nights, we simply couldn't stay away."

She nodded in understanding even as her expression grew somber. "I'm afraid there's been no change, but Detective Sandburg is already upstairs, so go on up."

"Thank you, Gertie, we will."

They took the elevator to the third floor and walked down to Jim's room. Simon knocked softly on the door before opening it. With Joel right behind him, he entered quietly but something stopped him just inside.

The bedside lamp was on, but at its lowest setting. The small Christmas tree Major Crime had put up was to their left and it smelled wonderful. It was beautifully decorated and lit with small multi-colored lights, so combined with the bedside light, the room had a warm and inviting glow. They should have felt comfortable continuing on inside, but Blair, standing so alone at the window, stopped them.

Simon was pretty certain he'd never seen a lonelier or more despondent man in his life and it scared him. For the last months, Sandburg had been the rock of certainty, the glue holding the rest of them together. Always positive, certain that Jim would come back when he was ready. Blair'd been cheerful and encouraging when it came to everyone getting on with their lives while they waited for Jim to 'wake up' - and not once - since the doctors had delivered their news of Jim's condition, had anyone seen so much as a chink in Blair's armor.

Until now.

Shoulders slumped, arms crossed over his chest and head bowed, he was the definition of a man who'd finally given up. Simon could see the small, intermittent tremors coursing through him and damn it, he looked so helpless, Simon had the urge to wrap him in his arms. But he didn't - instead, he looked at Joel, saw the sympathy and understanding in his eyes, and decided to let Joel handle this one. It didn't take long.

Joel walked to Blair's side and said, "Blair, I hope you don't mind that Simon and I dropped by tonight."

Blair's spine immediately stiffened but then he straightened, let his arms drop to his side, and, without turning, said, "No... uhm, no, of course not. But it's Christmas Eve."

Now Simon found his own words. "Yes, it is, and this is where we both need to be."

Blair swiped a hand angrily over his face and it didn't take a genius to know he was wiping the tears away before facing them. Joel moved silently to Blair's right while Simon took up his sentry duty on Blair's left. For a few moments, the three simply stood, bodies touching, while Sandburg gathered himself together.

Joel was the first to actually touch Blair. He simply draped an arm over the younger man's shoulders, offering comfort in a way he prayed the younger man would accept. Simon, seeing how Blair almost leaned into Joel, slipped his arm around Blair's waist.

The clock on the wall quietly ticked the time away, while outside, the snow continued to fall.

***

"He's going to wake up, Sandburg, and soon," Simon finally said.

They were still standing by the window and Simon figured it was time to talk, albeit quietly.

"I believe that with every fiber of my being, Blair," Joel added.

Choking up again, Blair could only nod. Their reflections stared back at them, surrounded by the tree lights. Blair searched for Jim in the reflection - and what he saw caused him to whirl around, almost knocking Joel over in the process.

Jim was moving.

Stunned, all three men, now facing the bed, watched as slowly...so very slowly, Jim's hand rose, dropped down, then rose again....

Blair was by his side in a flash, Simon and Joel right behind him. He grabbed Jim's hand and, holding it fast between his own, leaned down and asked, "Jim? Jim, can you hear me? Come on, man, open up those sentinel eyes of yours, give me a big fat grin and then tell me to shut up, okay? Could you do that for me, Jim? Please? It's... like, you know, Christmas, and I've got to tell you, I can't think of a better gift, well, maybe I could, because if you woke up, we'd be able to actually finish what we started, you know? So maybe you could--"

"Whoa, Sandburg, whoa. Give Jim a chance. He might not even...I mean, this might not be what you think it is. Let's just call--"

"Can't a guy get any sleep around here?"

"Do you mind, Jim? I'm trying to talk some sense into Sandburg here so that he doesn't... so that he doesn't...."

Simon's voice trailed off as he realized who he'd been talking to. Blair reached out and grabbed his arm, his fingers squeezing so hard, Simon had to bite his lips.

"If you...." Jim stopped, coughed slightly, then tried again. "If you think anyone can talk sense into Sandburg, you're crazy. I've been trying for years."

His voice was rusty and low, but it was Jim's voice - Jim's beautiful voice.  
Blair released Jim's hand, sat down next to him...and started to laugh. He threw back his head and laughed until tears streamed down his face.

Jim rubbed his eyes and blinked several times, then stared at his partner. Before he could say anything, Simon sat down on the other side of the bed... and started to laugh as well, with Joel joining in a few moments later.

Puzzled, Jim said, "Who knew I could be so funny?"

***

The laughter finally died out and, as Blair sat on the edge of the bed, his breath hitching, Jim slipped his hand under the blue denim shirt and began to lightly rub the warm skin. Blair closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

"Uhm, buddy? Can you tell me what's going on now? I don't...I don't actually recognize this room, you know? And I've learned that when I wake up and don't know where I am - well, it's not a good thing."

Blair lowered his head and began to shake it back and forth. Simon, seeing his distress, said, "You're at the Williamsburg Rehabilitation Center and you've been here for the last four months. Do you remember the security detail on the Mayor?"

Jim was about to answer, but Blair twisted around a bit and grabbed the hand that was rubbing his back. Jim watched, astonished, as Blair gripped it like a life preserver. Unable to tear his eyes from his partner, he nodded. "I remember."

"Do you remember the...shooting?"

Jim frowned and rubbed at his forehead with his other hand before saying, "Vaguely. I...I heard the rifle? The hammer being pulled back? And I...did I spot the guy?"

"You did. And launched yourself forward, placing your body between the killer and the mayor. You were hit two times, in the chest."

He dropped his hand and absently rubbed a spot just over his heart. "I...I see."

Simon looked over at Joel, who indicated the door, then pointed down.

Nodding, Simon said, "Look, Joel and I are going to head downstairs and let the staff know about this... about...you. They'll need to call Doctor Johns and probably look you over...and all. We'll also call your dad, Naomi and the rest of Major Crime, so hang in there, we'll be back in a few, all right?"

Jim, his eyes back on Sandburg, nodded.

Simon got up and he and Joel walked out, but not before looking back at the miracle in the bed.

***

"Chief? You...okay?"

Chief.

_Chief._

So many days, weeks and months without hearing that one word. An endearment to end all endearments. Smiling, Blair answered, "I'm...fine…now. How 'bout you?"

"Odd, Sandburg. Odd. And...apologetic. I'm damn sorry for putting you through all of this…for how long again?"

"It's been a little over four months since the shooting. They moved you here two weeks after the surgery. And by the way, you _should_ be sorry, jumping in front of those bullets that way." There was no sting in his voice, only a soft smile that matched the one on his face.

"Yeah, well, trust me, next time, someone else can do the jumping. Just make sure it's not you."

Blair didn't answer, just squeezed Jim's hand even harder.

Eventually, Jim managed to reverse things and bring Blair's hand to his lips. He kissed the back of it before saying again, "Sorry."

Blair shook his head but still couldn't speak. Jim looked around the room and smiled. "I'm thinking it's Christmas. You do all this, Sandburg?" he said with a wave of his free hand, indicating the decorations.

"Me, your dad, Steven, even mom. We all did it."

"It looks good...for a room I'll hopefully never see again. You think this Doctor Johns will let me...go...home? Tonight?"

"I'd like to see him try to keep you here," Blair said, his tone telling Jim that he would, indeed, be going home tonight.

"You think I could sit up then?"

"What?" Blair looked down at their hands, then added sheepishly, "Oh."

He let Jim's hand slide from his and, together, they got Jim up. Blair propped the pillows behind him so he could rest back. Jim stretched a bit, testing his limbs, and then whistled. "I feel pretty good for four months in a coma."

"Yeah, that's what worries me. People coming out of a four month coma don't usually just jump up and start talking. In fact, they often slip back, go in and out, you know? And speaking is usually slow to come as well. But you - well, doesn't it figure you just up and open your eyes as if nothing had happened. Maybe it's a sentinel thing--"

"That you won't even think about testing…."

Grinning, Blair said, "That I won't even think about testing. Besides, we can chalk it up to the excellent care you've received. Daily workouts, massages, all of us helping,you’re your father insisting because…we both knew…you know? We knew...."

His voice trailed off again and Jim saw him grimace as if in pain. He thought enough was enough so he pulled Blair down until his head was just under his chin. As he kissed the top of Blair's head, he whispered, "You never gave up, did you? I bet you've been here every single day, and not taking care of yourself, and--"

Blair covered Jim's mouth with his hand but Jim just grinned into it and nipped Blair's palm.

"Ow." Blair took his hand away - but grinned.

The look of love now so very visible in Blair's eyes, almost took Jim's breath away. He remembered the hours before heading for City Hall and chuckled before saying, "We must hold the record now for two people declaring their love and still not having kissed - let alone anything else."

"Sad, isn't it? No kissing, no groping, just words. Okay, I did all the talking--"

"Oh, now that I remember. Took guts, Sandburg. Took guts."

"Could we not go over it again? Could we maybe...get to the kissing part?"

For an answer, Jim gave a small tug and pulled Blair down to him and eventually... onto him. "I like the way you think, Chief."

Grateful beyond words, Blair simply ... kissed the man.

***

All calls had been made, everyone alerted of the miracle. The doctor and Jim's family were on their way. Gertie had been almost as excited as Simon and Joel - so much so that she'd immediately called Marilyn to give her the news.

Now, hand on the knob of the staircase, Simon looked over at Joel and asked, "You think we've left them alone long enough?"

Joel checked his watch and smiled. "Oh, yeah."

Grinning, both men headed back up to the third floor. At Jim's door, they paused, but only for a moment before walking in.

And for the second time that night - stopping dead just inside.

Blair was lying on top of Jim, who had his arms around Blair and they were…kissing.

Jim and Blair were kissing.

"They're kissing," Joel whispered.

"You noticed that, did you, Joel?" Simon whispered back.

"It's Christmas Eve, the fifth night of Chanukah, Jim's awake, and they're kissing," Joel whispered in wonder.

Smiling, Simon nodded. They stayed where they were - watching Jim and Blair kiss.

It was a wonderful Christmas Eve.

The End


End file.
